Crash Into Me - L.A. Fiore Page 0,1

but he was big and strong.

His hand moved from her mouth. She filled her lungs, so she could scream, fearing he was going to rape her, but then she saw the knife. His hand closed over her mouth again. As he leaned in, a familiar scent hit her, his face coming into view, one she’d just seen earlier that night. Confusion accompanied fear when he plunged the knife into her heart.

Two

Molly

It was disgusting, and like a train wreck, I couldn’t look away. I cringed, wanted to cover my eyes, but I was morbidly fascinated. My filet sat untouched on my plate, the baked potato with butter and sour cream likely cold. When it was delivered, it’d made my stomach growl. My stomach was now churning for an entirely different reason. Maybe if the steak wasn’t rare, or if he had even the slightest bit of table manners, the scene opposite me, at the small table, wouldn’t be so horrifying. But bloody juice dripped down his chin, as he wiped it away with the back of his hand.

The back of his hand. I was tempted to roll my eyes, but I’d miss the show.

This was my third date, in as many weeks, a setup from my partner. My partner sucked.

“You gonna eat that?” My date asked, but he was already reaching across the table and stabbing the meat.

Looks were definitely deceiving when it came to my dinner companion. When I stepped into the restaurant earlier, I couldn’t lie, I’d felt a tingle. He was beautiful: dark blond hair, bright blue eyes in a face like that of a fallen angel. He wasn’t a big talker, but then, he looked so good, he didn’t need to talk. Then the food came. He went from fallen angel to feral dog. Eating his food like he hadn’t eaten in decades, course after course, shoveling the food in like there was a time limit. I didn’t think I was particularly picky, but this was just…I was done.

“Excuse me.” I didn’t wait for an answer, not that I got one, except for a grunt, since his mouth was full of cow.

I found my waiter, paid for my meal, that I didn’t even eat, and left the restaurant.

It was spring, but the nights were still cool. I could be home by eight, watch a movie before I went to bed. It had been far too long since I’d done something as lazy as watching a movie. The idea was growing more and more appealing. I hailed a cab, walking would take too much time. I might even have some wine at my apartment with the leftover pizza from the other night. This evening could be saved. Then my cell went off. Seeing my partner’s name, I knew I wasn’t going to be watching that movie.

“We got one in the park,” Zac said, without preamble. “I’ll text you the location.”

Staring down at the young woman, it never got easier seeing death. A part of me was glad for that, not growing immune. Zac was hunched down next to the coroner; the crime scene unit was processing the area.

“Stab wound, one to the heart,” Julia said. “No signs of sexual abuse.”

I looked up the path then down. There were lights along it, but not enough. Why did people insist on running at night when they knew the dangers? “We got a time of death?”

Julia glanced up at me. “Based on liver temp and lividity, about an hour ago.”

That got my blood flowing; Zac’s, too, when he stood, looking around the scene. “So it’s possible he’s still here if he gets off on the chase,” I said.

“He’s strong and has experience,” Julia added.

“How do you know that?” I asked.

“The wound. It’s not easy pushing a knife through the rib cage into the heart. He did and with only one attempt. No hesitation wounds, either.”

“And the victim?” I asked Zac.

“ID found with the body is for a Samantha James. Preliminary search, works for Milton Teller PR as a publicist. Here on assignment. Home is Chadds Ford in Pennsylvania.”

“How long has she been here?”

“Two months.”

She either had really bad luck or…“Seems remarkably bad odds for this to be random.”

Zac glanced over at me. “I was thinking that, too.”

I exhaled, then looked back at the body. “As soon as you have anything, Julia.”

“I’ll call you.”

I started away from the body; Zac fell into step at my side. “So who’d be gunning for a visiting publicist?”

“Good question. Time to retrace her final hours,” Zac